


The Soul Of Genius

by Malfoysdarkness



Series: The Soul, Heart and Mind of Charles and Erik [1]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik Lehnsherr Has a Crush, Erik has a family, Erik is a Sweetheart, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, Poor Charles, Smitten Erik, but possible series, confused Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-20 18:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21060986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malfoysdarkness/pseuds/Malfoysdarkness
Summary: Charles started off having the worst possible day. Then, he met his new boss...





	1. Charles' Worst Morning

Charles Xavier was not a very lucky man. Indeed, on this particular day, he was extremely unlucky. It started something like this. 

Charles woke at six, his usual time. He got up, transferred into his wheelchair and rolled into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. There were no tea bags left. Sighing, Charles made a coffee instead, grimacing at the taste but gulping it down before it had time to cool and congeal. He narrowly ran over his cat, Einstein, causing the animal to yowl in warning and knock a couple dozen books flying from their neat stacks. It took a long while to pick them all up, as Charles leant dangerously out of his wheelchair. Einstein just looked on disdainfully, licking his paws. When the phone rang, Charles glared at it until he'd pulled himself back into his chair, and took it from the cradle. 

"Charles Xavier?" he said, a little breathlessly. He scowled over at Einstein, who ignored him successfully. 

"Charles, I'm so sorry. I can't come pick you up today. Raven called, there's a problem with the wedding plans." 

Charles closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer to whatever god was out there, that he keep his calm. 

"No worries, Hank. I'll just call a cab." 

No big deal, right? Wrong. The amount of times Charles had been turned down or dismissed by cab drivers just because of his wheelchair were innumerable. 

"Are you sure? It's your first day on the job, I wanted to make sure you got in alright." 

Charles shook his head, before remembering Hank couldn't see him. 

"It's alright, honestly. Go see Raven, I'll meet you for lunch." 

Hanging up, Charles set the phone back on the receiver and rubbed his temples. Already he was feeling a headache coming on, and it wasn't even eight o'clock yet. 

_ Still,  _ he thought,  _ could be worse _ . 

Oh, yes it certainly could. 

The cab came, surprisingly, on time, and Charles wheeled down to the door of the vehicle, briefcase on his lap. The driver didn't get out at first, until he realised Charles needed assistance. Pressing his lips together to stop himself being frightfully rude, Charles let the driver talk to him in a patronising and childish way. Though he did help Charles into the back seat with startling officiency. Maybe this day wasn't so bad after all. 

The cab driver didn't seem to know how London traffic worked, full stop. He waited at junctions when there was no need, causing a pile up, stayed in the overtaking lane when he wasn't overtaking, and simply infuriated Charles. By the time they arrived at Frost Industries, Charles was forty-five minutes late for his first day. Muttering a half-hearted 'thanks' as the driver helped him into his wheelchair, he made his way up to the huge double doors and pushed inside. 

To add to Charles' rapidly deteriorating mood, the front lobby was painted in soft blues and whites, making the telepath rather feel as if he was in a baby clothes store, rather than a marketing business headquarters. Wheeling over to the reception desk, Charles was peered at by several workers curiously, until he snapped. 

"I am not a zoo animal, to gawp at as you please." 

The receptionists were silenced, but a chuckle was heard from behind Charles. He turned, the angry look still on his face, before it abruptly left. The man standing before him was… something. 

Tall, slender and young, he captured Charles' eye instantly. Cheekbones and a jaw that could cut diamonds, fit with a pair of light eyes. Charles couldn't quite tell what colour they were, but guessed green, simply for what he hoped would be true. He was grinning, a big, shark-like grin. It would have been sinister, had his eyes not been twinkling. 

"Did I say something funny?" Charles questioned, his eyes still narrowed. However attractive this man was, he wouldn't let his pride be hurt. He noticed, with intrigue, that the man had extremely strong mental barriers. Charles couldn't break through them.  _ A mutant too, perhaps _ ? How curious. 

Charles had met other mutants before. Raven and Hank, but this gentleman's mutation seemed not to be physical.  _ Or maybe _ , Charles' mind supplied helpfully,  _ his mutation  _ is  _ his gorgeous face and body _ . Not for the first time, Charles was glad he was the only telepath. 

"Oh, no. Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I like your fire," said the man.  _ Oh _ , Charles' mind almost moaned.  _ A german accent.  _ Charles shifted slightly in his wheelchair, schooling his features into something near to pleasant casual. 

"Charles Xavier," Charles introduced, holding his hand up to the attractive man. He took it, his palm warm and rough against Charles'.  _ Alright, maybe this day isn't turning out as bad as I thought.  _

"Erik Lehnsherr." 

_ Shit _ . Charles' new boss? Charles stalled for a moment, mind going blank. This was rare. Thankfully, Erik supplied the words. Or maybe Charles should call him Mr. Lehnsherr. Yes, that would be more suitable. 

"Should we go up? I can show you your office." 

Charles nodded, sending a sideways glance to the receptionists. He swept their minds lightly, just to make sure. No, they weren't thinking about him anymore. Good. He didn't want to become the talk of the office, just because he was in a wheelchair. 

Mr. Lehnsherr led Charles into the lift and for a moment they were both silent as it whirred up to the fourth floor. Charles opened his mouth to speak just as the doors opened. Mr. Lehnsherr edged out first and led the way down rows and rows of small cubicle offices. Charles hoped to all the gods that he wasn't put in one of those. His wheelchair wouldn't fit into the gap. 

No. Instead, Mr. Lehnsherr didn't slow, ending up at the opposite end of the building. Pulling open the door, he waved his hand, indicating Charles was to go through first. Charles hesitated only a moment, before wheeling forward. His eyes widened. He stopped his wheelchair so fast Mr. Lehnsherr bumped into him. 

"Is this…?" Charles said in a half-whisper. This office was huge. Larger than any space Charles had worked in before. The desk was easily large enough to fit Charles' wheelchair behind, and each storage cabinet and drawer was at just the right height for him. 

Mr. Lehnsherr stepped around and sat down on the edge of the desk. 

"Yes, this is yours, Charles." 

Charles let his breath out shakily, coming out as a little laugh at the end. 

"You can't be serious. I'm just… I'm just a supervisor." 

Mr. Lehnsherr nodded. 

"You're my supervisor. Which means you get a nice office. Couldn't have you slumming it out there with the rest of them," he gave another teeth-filled grin as he jabbed his thumb towards the door. Charles wheeled forward carefully, as if afraid to catch the wheels of his chair on something. But there was nothing. The room was perfect. 

"You've successfully made my day one hundred percent better, Mr. Lehnsherr," Charles said after a moment, meeting those gorgeous eyes again. 

"Erik, please. You are among a friend." 

Charles nodded, fingers reaching out to carefully touch the edge of the desk.  _ Mahogany _ . 

"How can I ever repay you for this?" 

Mr. Lehnsherr,  _ Erik _ , smiled. 

"How about you buy me a drink?" 


	2. Explanations and Understandings

A week later, and Charles had barely had another glimpse of Erik Lehnsherr. After their initial meeting, they'd celebrated Charles' new job with a few drinks down the pub. Charles had never talked so much with someone he'd just met. He and Erik just… clicked. They debated, argued and conversed easily, and Charles felt as if he'd known the tall man for years. 

They'd talked of work, then of home and family. Erik was from Dusseldorf, but his parents moved to Poland when he was a child. He liked chess, whiskey and a good politics debate. He and Charles were in opposing parties, but found that didn't get in the way of their ease and friendliness with each other. 

Charles and Erik had spent half the evening in the pub, before Charles realised the time and made his leave. Erik walked him to a taxi and watched as it drove away. Charles could sense his mind, strong and powerful, but the barriers were still up. Charles half wondered whether Erik had met a telepath before, and so used the experience to heighten his own mind blocks. 

They hadn't talked of mutants, but Charles knew it must eventually come into conversation. He hadn't seen Erik display any powers, but almost  _ knew _ he was one. Charles could feel it. A little tingle down his spine, until it reached the fractured part and fizzled out like a sparkler. Charles guessed it was part of his own gift, being able to sense other mutants. 

Since that day, Charles had barely seen Erik. He seemed to be always shut up in his office, working away, never stopping for a break, or a coffee (Charles guessed Erik had a coffee machine in there). He appeared to clock in before Charles each day and leave long after Charles had gone home. Diligently, Charles signed paperwork, clicked on his computer and sent off emails without much thought. His mind was on the mysteriously elusive Erik Lehnsherr. 

On one Thursday afternoon, exactly two weeks and five days since Charles began his job, he wheeled out of his office and almost ran over someone standing just outside. They both moved back and the person, a woman, laughed. 

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't realise you were coming out," she said. Charles wheeled backwards slightly, noticing her head tilted slightly towards the door to Erik's office, which was just past his own. 

"No, it was my fault," Charles smiled, before gesturing to the stack of files the woman held in her arms. "Would you like me to take those in to him?" 

She hesitated and Charles knew without needing to read her mind that she was looking at his wheelchair. 

"I can manage, I assure you," he said, holding back his frustration. Each day, someone gave him and his chair a wrong glance and every time it annoyed him. He was  _ not  _ useless! He could do just as much as any other person. 

The woman considered it before slowly nodding. He held up his hands and she gave him the files. Setting them in his lap, he smiled triumphantly at her before turning his wheelchair towards Erik's office. This was his chance to find out once and for all: what Erik Lehnsherr's game was. He took Charles out on his first day, they got on like a house on fire, but then never even bothered to say hello after that? Not on. 

Knocking only briefly on the door, Charles pushed inside, focusing on keeping the files from falling as he went through the door. When he looked up, Erik was standing across from him. Wearing a similar mouth-wateringly tight sweater like last time. 

"The lady - uh, Jean, from supplies, wanted you to have these," Charles stammered, nodding to the files on his lap. Erik moved forward to take them and Charles passed them over, taking the chance to look around the room. It was neat, amazingly neat. Though, it didn't surprise Charles. Erik seemed like the kind of person who hated mess or clutter of any kind. 

"Thank you, Charles." 

Charles bit his lip to stop himself from asking Erik to repeat his name. It rolled off Erik's tongue with his glorious accent and Charles was hit with the full force of his crush once more. Erik turned away to set the files on his desk and Charles pretended not to sweep a casual glance over Erik's backside.  _ Fuck. What doesn't this man have?  _

"Are you normally this busy? I haven't seen you since we went out for drinks," Charles said before he could stop himself. He tightened his fingers on his wheelchair, cursing himself. Erik was his boss, and Charles sounded incredibly needy! 

"Oh, I didn't realise. Sorry, Charles. Been a hell of a time lately," Erik said, eyes closing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "My children are driving me crazy." 

Charles paused. Maybe he'd gotten Erik all wrong. What if he had a wife? What if… Charles closed his eyes for a moment. What if Erik's pleasantries on Charles' first day was just something he did for everyone? 

"Your children?" Charles forced himself to say, keeping his voice steady. "How many?" 

Erik sat down on the edge of his desk, taking a small photo frame from it and holding it out to Charles. Charles did a double take. 

Four children. Four children, each with a different hair colour. One green, one silver, one brown, one ginger. Four children, grinning cheekily at the camera. 

"Mutants," Charles blurted out. Erik glanced up, slowly taking the photograph back when Charles held it out. 

"Yes," Erik said carefully, eyes locked on Charles. Charles held his ground under the intense gaze, green on blue. 

"You don't have to be afraid, Erik. I am a mutant, too."

"A telepath," Erik replied before Charles had a chance to say it. Blinking, Charles nodded. 

"How did you know?" 

Erik set the photo frame back on his desk and touched the edge. 

"You tried to read my mind when we first met." 

Charles  _ had  _ done, but it had been unsuccessful. Erik's mind was impenetrable. 

"I-I did," Charles felt almost lost for words. Charles was never at a loss for words. So Erik had four mutant children, and had known about Charles all along? Had he avoided Charles for that very reason? Erik's lips curved up in a slow smile, not unlike the first one he'd given Charles. 

"My children all have different powers. My eldest, Lorna, is like me, in a way. A metalkinetic." 

Charles' eyes widened. "You can control metal?" 

Without answering, Erik simply flicked his wrist and the large marbles on his desk lifted into the air and melted into each other, to form a large metal ball. Charles grinned, a little breathless. 

"How wonderful." 

Erik gave Charles his special smile once more and Charles felt his chest grow warm. 

"What about your other children?" 

Erik shifted to sit more comfortably on his desk, as the marbles separated again and floated back down to rest like paperweights on the files Charles had brought in. 

"Then there is Pietro and Wanda. Pietro's power is super-speed, which makes him extremely hard to catch. Then Wanda. Her powers are more magic than anything." 

Erik looked extremely proud as he talked about his children, and Charles pretty much forgot every worry he'd had about Erik having a wife. Now was not the time. 

"My youngest girl is Nina. Her powers have only just started to reveal themselves, which is why I'm tired. I've been staying home with her most days for the past few weeks. Her gift is controlling animals, but that may not be the extent of it. She is only six, so she is yet to grow stronger."

Ah. So Erik hadn't even been in the building. That explained Charles not seeing him. Filled with a strange sense of relief and pride, Charles leant forward slightly. 

"Their powers are like nothing I've heard of before," Charles breathed. "My sister is a mutant, her fianceé, too. But they are the only mutants I've known. Till now." 


	3. I Have A Cat

"Do you have children?" 

Charles, startled out of his daydream, glanced up. Erik was standing in front of his desk, bright-eyed and wide awake despite the early morning start. Since learning about Erik's family, the two hadn't spoken very much, as Erik had been home most days, looking after Nina. At the unexpected question, Charles hesitated. 

"I have a cat," he offered. He was rewarded by Erik's beautiful, shark smile. It made Charles' chest heat up and part of him wondered whether he had indigestion. 

"What is their name?" 

Charles almost didn't say. Was Erik  _ really  _ interested in learning about Charles' cat? Erik's family was much more interesting. 

"Einstein," Charles replied, pushing away from his desk, wheeling backwards and over to his filing cabinet. As it had been more than three weeks now, Charles had settled into his job and his office with ease. He didn't speak much with his Co-workers, though he and Jean did have a good discussion in the coffee room every other day. She was a telepath too, so they conversed mainly silently. 

"Why am I not surprised?". Erik chuckled and if Charles had dared to glance up, he would have seen the heart-wrenchingly soft smile Erik was giving him. 

"Well, Einstein is my only child, I'm afraid. Work and my dissertation for university has rather gotten in the way of having relationships," Charles gave his own chuckle, but it sounded false. He stopped it quickly. Erik's smile didn't falter. 

"Would you like to come over to my house this evening? For dinner. You can meet my lot. I'm sure they'd be more than excited to meet another mutant." 

Charles paused.  _ Dinner with Erik?  _ With or without the children, that was pretty serious, right? And Erik must have a wife, if he had children. Although it was the twenty-first century, Erik looked like the kind of person to only have kids when married. Unfortunately, in the time it took Charles to mull it over, Erik had drawn back from the desk, straightening up. 

"I understand. I'll leave you to your work." 

Charles couldn't let Erik leave, but his mouth was dry. He stayed silent as Erik left his office, closing the door quietly behind him. Charles listened as his footsteps faded away, before dropping his face into his hands. Letting loose a groan of frustration, Charles squeezed his eyes tight shut. He wasn't undisturbed for long, however. Charles had barely been despairing for ten minutes, when his phone rang. He waited until the third ring before slowly holding the device to his ear.

"Charles! You need to come down to the venue after work, it looks so beautiful!" 

Charles closed his eyes at the familiar female voice. 

"Raven," he began, voice hoarse. He quickly cleared his throat before continuing. "I can't tonight, I have a lecture."

"You're  _ always  _ working yourself so hard, Charles! Take the night off! No, the entire afternoon. I'll come and collect you from your building. Fourth floor, right? See you in ten minutes!" she then hung up, leaving Charles staring at the phone, blinking in bewilderment and astonishment. He should have been used to his sister making decisions for him, by now, but no. It always came as a surprise to him. He wasn't sure why. 

Either way, he couldn't leave now, could he? He had so much work to do! Charles glanced at his watch before squaring his shoulders. Alright then. Ten minutes until Raven arrived. Ten minutes to finish his work, and  _ possibly  _ talk to Erik. 

Starting a mental stopwatch for himself, Charles begun. Unfortunately, there was more work to be done than he expected, and when Raven pushed her way into his office, he had not had a chance to speak to Erik. 

"Ready to go?" she said, and without waiting for an answer, grasped the handles of his wheelchair and pushed him towards the door. Charles gave a yelp of protest, shifting back in his seat. 

"Hey! You know this is disabled abuse," he muttered. Raven successfully ignored him. She power walked with him down the rows of cubicle offices towards the lift, and Charles only just managed a quick glance back. Just in time to see Erik's face staring back at him from his office door. Confusion, hurt and a little indifference showed on his features, squeezing Charles' chest painfully. Shit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, I promise the next one will be bigger! Hope you're enjoying the story so far!


	4. Speedsters and Satin

"So, what do you think about the flowers?" 

Charles blinked, rubbing his forehead. He hadn't realised how much work went into planning a wedding. Raven had barely stopped talking since they'd arrived at the venue, not even seeming to care that Charles didn't reply to any of it. 

" They look great," Charles replied vaguely, before glancing at his watch. Holy hell, it had only been an hour. Charles repressed a groan and shifted his wheelchair back from the table. 

"I'm just going out for some fresh air," he said, but his words fell on deaf ears. Raven was already distracted by the place settings, so Charles quickly made his escape. Out in the sunshine, he tilted his head back and let his eyes fall closed. 

"Your fiancé bringing you down? There's a lot in wedding planning, didn't you know that?" said an unfamiliar voice and Charles sat up, putting a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. He'd left his sunglasses in his office. A boy, perhaps twelve or thirteen stood by the entrance to the venue, arms crossed over his Pink Floyd shirt. 

"She's not my fiancé. I'm her brother," Charles corrected. He frowned, trying to place the boy. He was somewhat familiar, but Charles wasn't sure where he'd seen him before. 

"Oh, makes sense. Though you look nothing alike," the boy gave a shrug. He pushed back his silver hair with a hand and the realisation hit Charles like a bullet. 

"You're Pietro," Charles breathed without thinking. The boy, Pietro, frowned, glanced about him suspiciously before sticking his hands in his pockets. 

"How do you know my name?" 

Charles hesitated before shifting forward in his chair. If Pietro decided to use his speed, Charles would lose his chance.

"I know your father. I work for him. We were talking and he spoke about you, and your power." 

Pietro shifted, almost preening a little as he examined his fingernails. 

"Did he say how I once raced a plane from New York to Los Angeles and won easily?" 

Charles chuckled. 

"No, he didn't. But that is extremely interesting. Do you know exactly how fast you were going?" 

Pietro shrugged. "I don't have a speedometer, but pretty fast, I guess," he grinned. 

"Marvelous! Hang on," Charles paused. "What are you doing here? Do you live around here?" 

Pietro shook his head. "My mum works here, I only have a half day at school on Wednesdays, so I have to come back here," he grimaced. Charles chuckled. 

"You don't much like weddings, either?" 

Pietro shrugged. 

"It's not that I don't like them, it's just that I hate how fake it all is. All the 'I do's and 'Til death do us part'. It's just laughable." 

Charles smiled, leaning back in his chair.

"I feel exactly the same way," he confirmed. He had felt a little weird at the word of Pietro's mother, but he had told himself before that Erik was most likely married. Erik, by talking to him and asking him round to dinner, was probably just doing his good deed for the day. Before Pietro could answer, Raven called Charles from insider, making him sigh. Pietro rocked on the balls of his feet. He clearly could never stop moving. 

"I better go," Charles turned his chair towards the door once more. "However," he added, glancing back at the boy, thankful he hadn't gone yet. "Tell your father tonight that I would be honoured to come to dinner. Perhaps Friday?" 

Pietro blinked and Charles smiled to himself as he wheeled inside. 

\--

The rest of the afternoon continued much as the beginning had done, filled with flowers, dresses, colours and cakes. By the end of it, Charles was sick to death of the wedding, and would only attend for Raven and Hank's sake. Nothing else. 

Flicking the kettle on as he came into the kitchen, Charles set out some food for Einstein and smiled as the fluffy cat made his way sleepily into the room. He meowed a greeting before starting to eat and Charles poured his tea, head full of too many thoughts to contain. 

"What should I do, Einstein?" he asked the cat, who ignored him purposefully. He sighed and took a sip of his tea, watching out of the kitchen window at the darkening sky. The days were getting shorter now and Charles knew Autumn was here. 

"While Erik has his brood of children, I sit alone with a book," Charles added with a huff as he settled himself on the sofa, opening his novel. Einstein settled down on his lap, kneading his legs with his paws before settling down, though Charles didn't feel it. He couldn't concentrate on his book, however, and soon set it aside. He decided then to stare into space, fixating on one particular spot on the skirting board beside the sideboard. He had once seen a family of mice living in that skirting board, but they must be long gone by now. Either that or Einstein had done his job of being a cat. 

Sighing, Charles laid his head back against the sofa cushions and, contented and warmed by Einstein's presence, he slipped into a heavy sleep, filled with dreams of silver like metal and shark smiles. Another day, it would be better, Charles hoped. 


	5. Friday

When Friday came, Charles couldn't keep still. Well, he couldn't keep his fingers still. They were resting on the wheels of his chair, but never stopped working, rubbing, fidgeting, gripping and grasping in agitation. He was extremely nervous. Erik had popped his head into Charles' office that morning and said how glad he was that Charles was coming to dinner. The man's happiness at the thought filled Charles with more doubt and worry, but he squashed it down. He would not let his own anxiety get in the way. 

Erik had said a member of his family would come to collect Charles, as he himself was cooking. Charles, thankfully, had been filled with relief by the sight of Pietro standing outside his apartment door, pushing an ipod into his pocket, taking out his earphones. 

"How do you live on the fourth floor?" Pietro said as a greeting, scuffing his feet on the floor. His outfit was predominantly silver today, clashing with his hair. Charles knew he was the only person who would suit that outfit outside of the eighties. "You're in a wheelchair, you can't go down the stairs. What if the lift breaks down?" 

Charles chuckled. "If that happens, I'll just be stuck up here," he said, moving back to let Pietro inside. The boy glanced around and wrinkled his nose. 

"You listen to Alfie Bow? What kind of twenty-four year old are you?" 

Charles frowned. "My CD collection is in the… how did you know I'm twenty-four?" 

Pietro tapped his nose, grinning. 

"I had a quick explore while you shut the door," he said. Charles must have looked away for only one second while closing the door. Pietro was  _ that  _ fast. "And found your birth certificate." 

"My birth certificate?" Charles blinked. "Where… no, how?" he spluttered and Pietro stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

"Trade secrets, man. You won't tell me how to read minds, so I won't tell you how to run fast." 

Charles found himself starting to laugh again. 

"Deal," he smiled.

They shook hands and Pietro rocked on the balls of his feet. "So, you ready to go?" 

Charles hesitated. 

"How are we getting there?" 

Pietro smiled mysteriously, moving to stand behind Charles. He put his hand on the back of Charles' head and took hold of his wheelchair with the other. 

_ _ "What are you doing?" Charles swallowed. 

"Holding your head, so you don't get whiplash." 

"What?" 

"W-h-i-i-i-p-l-a-a-a-s-h." 

\--

Barely a second later, and feeling as if his stomach had been on a roller-coaster, Charles arrived at Erik's house with Pietro. Panting and trying not to throw up, Charles looked at the house, so as to keep his head from spinning. 

"It's fine, it takes a bit of getting used to," Pietro shrugged, watching him. "It's fun, actually. I've never done it with a wheelchair before." 

"I don't think I'd like to get used to it, if you don't mind," Charles replied, voice still slightly shaky. Pietro grinned and zoomed away, coming back a moment later. 

"Dad knows we're here," he said and Charles nodded, leaning back in his chair. It was a pleasant house, made of redbrick. Very traditional, and just the perfect family home Charles had imagined Erik owned. 

"Lead the way, then. At a slower pace, this time," Charles said, after he knew he had full control of his organs once more. Pietro threw up a peace sign before leading the way down the small slate path to the front door. An American mailbox labelled 'Lehnsherr' sat outside and Charles patted it absently as he passed, following Pietro inside. 

The smell of food hit Charles instantly and he breathed in deeply, eyes closing. Pietro saw and nodded, grinning.

"Dad makes the best food, though only when we have guests," he said, taking Charles' coat and hanging it up. Voices chattered from the nearby kitchen and the sounds of a budding argument were heard in the front living room. Charles, hiding a smile, followed Pietro into the room. 

"It's  _ my  _ turn to choose channels!" 

"No, mine! You had your turn!" 

"Ladies, please!" Pietro raised his voice and both girls looked at him with glares rivalling an angry mother. Charles thought if he didn't know them, he would have been surprised that Pietro didn't recoil away. 

"Piet, it's my turn, right?" 

Pietro glanced at the shorter girl, who was clearly his twin. They weren't identical, but their eyes had the same fire. Her hair was a dark auburn, whereas the other girl was taller, with hair of bright, neon green. If Charles hadn't known they were mutants, he would have asked for the number of her hair colourist. 

"No, it's time for dinner," he said and the eldest girl, Lorna, rolled her eyes. She looked to be around sixteen, with no care for nice dinners with guests, but Charles didn't mind. He'd taught children before, knew how they worked. The younger, Wanda, huffed and punched Pietro's arm lightly as she walked past them, into the kitchen. She completely ignored Charles, but Lorna paused, eyes searching him. He almost wondered if she was about to say something condescending about his disability, but she simply gave a nod before following her younger sister. 

"They're nicer than that, usually," Pietro said and Charles smiled. 

"It's quite alright. I don't mind," he said. His chest tightened with an all-too familiar excitement as Erik's voice called out of the kitchen. "Pietro, let our guest come in properly." 

"Was just giving him the tour, dad," Pietro shrugged, leading Charles into the kitchen. It was wide and spacious, and Erik was stood by the stove, his youngest daughter on his hip, the girl chatting excitedly away about what the birds had told her that day in school. Erik listened willingly, smiled at intervals and never gave any inclination that he wasn't interested in what she had to say. 

"Well Charles, I hope we haven't scared you away. I know my lot can get crazy at times," Erik said in his gorgeous low voice, when Nina paused for breath. Charles smiled, looking round at the family. 

"I think you're all amazing." 


	6. Chess (obviously)

"Did you always want to work in marketing?" 

Charles glanced up from the incredible meal to see Erik's eyes searching his face across the table. Charles' cheeks grew warm and he took a sip of wine. 

"Oh, not at all," Charles smiled. "I was intending on becoming a university professor at Oxford. I did my dissertation on the X-gene and how mutant powers develop."

The children, who had been distracted in their own conversation about the television programs, glanced up. 

"You can do a university course on mutants?" Lorna asked, leaning forward. 

"Certainly. If you go into the study of genealogy, then specify the X-gene as something you want to work on. There aren't many books and dissertations about it, but hopefully there'll be more by the time you go to uni," Charles smiled. His eyes met Erik's across the table and Erik straightened up just slightly. 

"Why didn't you become a professor?" 

Charles hesitated, looking down at the table and trailing his thumb around the rim of his wine glass. 

"You can tell us, Charles," Pietro clamoured, drumming his fingers on the table. Nina did the same, but she didn't look as if she was listening. Her eyes were on the sullen ginger cat sitting by the fridge. 

"They wouldn't build me any accessibility. For my wheelchair," Charles said, shrugging. "Stupid reason to turn down being a professor at Oxford, I know." 

"Screw them," Erik said, interrupting Charles' words. Three of his children and Charles stared at him, and Wanda broke the silence by laughing. 

"Yeah, screw them!" she whooped and Erik held up his hand.

"No, no. I'm the only one allowed to say that word." 

"What word, 'them'?" Lorna sniggered and Charles grinned, leaning back in his seat. He loved watching Erik and his children, loved seeing the interplay between them and the casual way they joked around and made fun of each other. Erik was a completely different man around them and Charles felt so privileged to see it. 

"They seriously wouldn't make it wheelchair accessible for you, though?" Pietro asked and Charles nodded, finishing his wine. 

"No, they said it would 'ruin the authenticity of the university," Charles snorted. "The only thing ruining the authenticity is the students with iPhones in the cathedral."

Erik laughed and Charles' face heated up once again. 

"Did you go to university, Erik? I feel like I'm simply talking about myself this whole evening," Charles said, raising an eyebrow. 

"Ah, no, I didn't. I dropped out of school at sixteen, became a mechanic, and later on, Emma Frost gave me a job at her company." 

"What did you want to be when you were younger?" 

"I don't know, exactly. Perhaps an astronaut," Erik grinned, showing all his teeth and Charles grinned back. 

"Better than mine. I wanted to be the president," Charles laughed. 

"At least that is doable. Being an astronaut is not all it's cracked up to be. Believe me, I've watched all the documentaries," Erik grinned, getting to his feet to collect the plates. 

\--

"Do you play chess, Charles?" 

"Oh! Yes, though it's been an age," Charles smiled, following Erik into his study. It was a comfortable, cozy room, especially with the lamps on, curtains drawn. Erik settled himself in an armchair and Charles pulled himself into the one opposite. Erik didn't try to assist him with his wheelchair, which Charles appreciated. He hated when people fussed and hovered over him, and didn't respect he could do things on his own. 

"I'll go easy on you," Erik said with a low chuckle, setting down the black and white pieces on the board between them. 

"I believe you," Charles smiled, waiting until Erik had moved a pawn before they started the game. They were both silent for a while, contented in each other's company, and the game in front of them. Charles let his mind wander a little as Erik contemplated his next move. 

No wife. Well, no wife Charles had seen. There were plenty of photographs on the walls and over the mantelpiece in the living room, though none of any adult woman. It was always Erik and the kids, or just the kids. No mother. Charles cleared his throat awkwardly, taking a sip of the whiskey Erik had poured for them at the start of the game. That, added to the wine at dinner, was making Charles begin to feel a little more relaxed and he felt more comfortable asking Erik what was on his mind. 

"Is your wife away?" 

Erik was so taken aback that he dropped his whiskey glass. It bounced on the carpet and the small amount of drink left in it spilled and seeped into the fabric. Erik barely noticed it. He stared at Charles in disbelief. 

"Wife?" 

Charles nodded, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He moved his rook but Erik didn't take his eyes off him. 

"I don't have a wife," Erik said, with a little chuckle of bemusement. Charles paused. 

"But, of course you do. You should! You're a handsome, albeit gorgeous man with four children. You must have a wife!" 

Erik full-on laughed now, showing all his teeth. Charles' stomach flipped. Was this true? Was Erik… single? After all this time of telling himself Erik was taken? God, Charles felt like an idiot. 

"I don't have a wife, Charles. You must know why I asked you round here for dinner, right?" Erik sat back in his chair, the chess game forgotten for the time being. 

Charles simply blinked and Erik smiled. A fond, loving smile that warmed Charles' insides and made his organs do somersaults. 

"I like you, Charles. A lot. Since the first day I met you. Talking with you in that pub, it was the best afternoon of my life," Erik said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "And tonight, you being here made me incredibly happy."

Charles was never usually lost for words. 

"So," Erik laughed nervously. "I'm terrible at this stuff. Can I kiss you?" 

Charles huffed a laugh, the weight lifting from his shoulders with a great 'whomph!', leaving him a little breathless. He simply nodded and set his glass on the chess set between them as Erik moved closer.  _ Closer. Closer…  _ and then their lips were touching.  _ Oh _ , it was incredible. Charles hated when movies and books said kisses were like fireworks, but this one  _ was.  _ Every time their lips met, Charles' mind exploded in a mixture of colour and light, one green, one red, one blue. It filled Charles' head as he pushed closer for  _ more. More, more  _ of Erik. Erik was electrifying. 

When they finally pulled away, Charles laughed softly, his fingers cupping Erik's cheek. 

"You know what?" 

"What?" Erik hummed, tilting his head into Charles' touch almost like a kitten. 

"I was having the worst morning on my first day, until I met you." 

Erik smiled and they kissed again. "So was I. You were what made it better. You are what makes everything better, Charles." 

Outside the door, four children high-fived each other and gave silent whoops of triumph. Their father was happy, at last. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end of my little fic, thank you so much for reading! If you'd like me to make a part two, more Erik-centered, please leave a comment!


End file.
